


Spot Thinks

by Efstitt



Series: Catch as Catch Can [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Addictions, Allusions to prostitution, F/M, Nothing is spelled out but I thought I should say something., allusions to drug use, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: This is a Spot POV one shot that fits in Catch a Break if You Can, chapter 21. He is very worried. Some Spot flashbacks.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber
Series: Catch as Catch Can [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585561
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Spot Thinks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trekkiehood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekkiehood/gifts).



As Spot got dressed for work, he heard Jack rustling around in the main room. He was used to Race sleeping through everything in the morning if he’d been working thirds, but it wouldn’t be bad to have company in the morning, as long as Jack was quiet.

“Hey,” Spot whispered, sticking his head out of the bedroom, “try to keep it down, okay?” Jack looked up. He held an open granola bar in his hand, and reached down to offer another one to Spot. “No, thanks,” said Spot. “I’ll get coffee at the church. We got an anniversary party this afternoon, so I’m good.”

Jack nodded and put the rest of the bar in his mouth in one bite. He swallowed it nearly whole. “You guys gotta share this bag with me,” he whispered, as soon as Spot emerged. “Mr. Jacobs put good stuff in here.”

Spot shook his head. “That’s yours, buddy. I told you I can’t feed you, so don’t you go giving your food away.” Jack shrugged.

“You seeing Kath today?” Spot whispered. Jack’s eyes lit up, so Spot took that as a yes. “Good. And get your homework done.” Jack rolled his eyes. “I mean it. Get it done.” Jack waved his hand at Spot and went to put his shirt on.

Spot raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be back later this afternoon once I get the party cleaned up at the church. If you’re back in time you can throw laundry in with mine tonight.” Jack looked startled but pleased, Spot noticed. Spot waved a quick wave and slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

He hadn’t expected to take in a stray. But then, Medda had taken a chance on him, so maybe he should do the same. He remembered the look on Medda’s face when he’d shown up for church like he was supposed to be there, you know, just going to church. He’d sat still, stood up with everyone else, and played the part, hoping he’d cleaned up in the snow good enough to pass. He scoped out the coat rack and was impressed. He could probably do good next week. They’d feel good that he’d come back, let their guard down. He still felt Medda watching him the next week. Sure enough, as he went to the restroom right before the service started, he came back out to take a coat and leave only to find Medda sitting in a chair in the hall, just a little ways from the coat rack, pretending to pay attention to the service from a distance. He smiled at her and went in to the sanctuary, taking a seat. Maybe she’d be gone by the end of the service. She wasn’t. Shit. He still stuffed himself with the snacks put out after the service, putting a few in his sweatshirt pockets for later.

“What can I call you?” Spot heard a voice behind him. He turned to see a woman smiling at him.

“Spot,” he said, trying not to spray crumbs all over.

“I’m so pleased you’re here, Spot,” she said. “I’m Medda. We’re going to have a lot of leftovers today. Do you have friends who might want some of these?” She pointed at the cheese and crackers, and a few leftover cookies.

“I guess so,” he said. “Yeah.” He stood and watched her put it all in a box, and then the box in a bag, and hold it out to him. “Um, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said, smiling. “I hope to see you next week. Actually, could you come early to help me set out the snacks?” Spot certainly could, again and again.

He’d watched her a few weeks later after he ran away again. She’d never asked anything about him after asking his name. She’d “discovered” an abandoned coat on the coat rack, a ruse he had completely fallen for, he realized later. And now, he wondered... he’d even written her a letter on the back of a church bulletin in case he lost his nerve. 

“Dear Meda, Do you think maybe I could stay at church or maybe with you on real cold nights. I don’t steal. I don’t borrow stuff that aint mine. I don’t need food. I can leave early and come back late. I just need a place to stay until it gets warm.”

He took the bag of extra snacks after church. He looked at her, trying to speak. “Miss Medda, uh, I got a question. Um.” Spot felt his heart drop. No way she would say yes. Why would she. But maybe. And it was so cold, even with the coat. And he didn’t want to do stuff like he’d done before, not ever. Medda waited patiently. He shoved the letter at her and stared at the floor as she read it. Everyone else but the pastor had left. 

“Spot?” He didn’t look up. “What is this about?”

He didn’t speak. If she couldn’t help him, he’d be on the corner tonight. He couldn’t. Not again. He’d been clean for a while. He stood there, still silent, feet frozen in place. She hadn’t said no.

“Spot?”

He didn’t dare look at her. “I ain’t gonna steal nothing. I’m just gonna sleep.” His voice felt thick. 

“Where have you been until now?” 

“Around, you know. Foster home before that.” He looked at the frayed ends of his shoelaces.

“Why aren’t you still with your foster family?”

Jesus. Maybe he should just go. He’d survived before. “I ran away,” he mumbled. “Never mind.”

“No, not never mind. You can stay with me.” Spot nearly peed himself. He survived for a while. 

Spot snapped back from his trance and wondered about Jack as he walked to the church. Should he have asked Jack where he was going? So if Jack was going to stay with him, then what. He liked the kid. He wasn’t his babysitter, though. Stupid to tell him to do his homework, but he didn’t want Jack getting his GED in prison, either. The stealing had to stop. Wasn’t no way Spot was going back, that was for sure, even if it meant Jack went in. He wasn’t gonna lie for Jack. Should he give Jack a curfew? Stupid kid had stolen during the day, though. 

Spot finished up at the church and checked the stairwell before he left. Jack was what, about the seventh guy he’d seen sleeping there this year. Definitely the youngest. He’d seen Jack the one Sunday morning, but by the time he went back out to talk to him, Jack was already being harassed by three drunks. Better that than the cops, but still. It took everything he had not to grab Jack by the arm and drag him inside. The kid was hungry. Still in school, though, which was a surprise. Okay. Spot wished he’d been able to do that, or tried harder.

Spot walked home, surprised Jack wasn’t back yet, but no big deal. He flung himself on his bed and turned on his radio. He didn’t really expect to like opera that much, but it sounded as different from prison as he could find, so opera it was. Those folks in the operas were about as screwed up as his cell mates, but the opera folks sounded better. Usually. He drifted off.

Jack still wasn’t back. Spot didn’t worry until Kath, Albert and Charlie showed up looking for him.

“He didn’t show up at our bench,” Kath started. “I waited for a while, then tried looking for him at our usual spots. I ran into Charlie and Albert at the park, and they hadn’t seen him either. We even went over to the school and looked in the library windows, but I don’t think he’s there.” 

“Has he disappeared before?” Spot asked them.

Albert rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “he run away a bunch before this last home. At least that’s what the social worker said. But why would he run away from you? You ain’t beating on him, are you?” 

Spot didn’t dignify that with a response. “He ever, you know,” Spot looked at Katherine and took a breath, “go out and make some extra money?” He looked pointedly at Albert and Charlie.

“No way,” said Charlie. “He steals shit. He don’t sell nothing, not even...” he faltered. Albert shook his head.

“Okay,” Spot let out a breath. “That’s good.” He reran the past couple of days. The fight with Oscar. Oscar wouldn’t let that go, Spot guessed. How to say that.

Race finally spoke. “Maybe Oscar beat the shit out of him.” Helpful, Race. Spot looked at Katherine, who was now terrified.

He smacked Race on the back of the head. “Or not.” He glared at Race. Race gave him a “what?” look. “Kath, listen, why don’t you go home. Give me your number and I’ll call as soon as we hear anything, okay? You don’t need to be driving your nice car around this neighborhood by yourself, especially after dark.” 

“But what if he is hurt? Then I can go get him,” she said.

Spot shook his head. “If he’s hurt like that, ain’t no one gonna hand him a cell phone. Race can walk you to your car, okay?” He pointed at the door. The look she gave him let him know he wasn’t doing a good job with his manners, but he’d live with her disappointment.

Katherine gone, Spot paced. Oscar. Likely. Or maybe Jacky stole again and got caught. Oscar. Either Oscar would just beat the shit out of Jack or make him do something before beating the shit out of him. Hospitals? 

“Charlie, here. Use my phone and call around to the hospitals, okay? Maybe he’s there. I’ll be right back.” Spot handed his phone to Charlie and went down to the door to the apartment building. No sign of Jack on the sidewalk. Spot checked the alley and the dumpster. You never knew.

He met Race on his way back from taking Katherine to her car, and pulled him aside. “You know anyone who knows Oscar?” he asked Race.

Race shook his head. “Even if I did, I ain’t getting mixed up in that kind of shit again,” he said. “Let’s just hope he shows up.”

They went back upstairs together, Spot wracking his brain. “Any news?” he asked Charlie. Charlie shook his head. Spot thought back to the nights he himself had disappeared.

“Guys, uh, I gotta ask,” said Spot. “Is Jack addicted to anything?” Please God no. Albert and Charlie exchanged looks.

“Booze,” said Albert quietly. “Don’t no one know, really.”

“Has he been dry long?” Spot asked, feeling his heart rate go up. Jacky was off the wagon. He could feel it. Did Oscar know about the booze?

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, he’s dry so long as no one’s beating on him, you know? He’s been good at this home we’re in now. They ain’t perfect but they didn’t beat him. But yeah, he’s got a problem.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Spot tried to stay calm. He went to his room for a minute. If Oscar knew that, he could get Jack to do anything, anything at all. Jack could be in jail right now. Booze to drugs. Spot took deep breaths. Detoxing in prison wasn’t something he’d wish on Oscar himself. Why hadn’t he thought of all this. A bed alone wasn’t enough. He should have known that. But he was still going to school. Jack was smarter than Spot. Wasn’t he? He’d know better. Why hadn’t he asked Jack. Stupid kid.

Spot came back out to the main room and tried to think of something to say. Charlie and Albert were really getting worried now. Race held up his hand, though, at the sound of someone coming down the hall. Staggering? The thud of a body against the door, the clumsy jiggling of the doorknob, and there was Jack. Exuberant, triumphant, and decidedly, completely drunk.


End file.
